﻿Fountain of YouthAvailable at Spelk Fiction

Freddy’s lips touch the water and I snap a picture. He laughs and flicks me. We sit in the park talking about pain in the seventies and death in the eighties and ask why things didn’t change when Bowie the chameleon challenged what we thought we knew about identity.

​But the Starman’'s light has collapsed and ours is dimming, he reminds me, even though so many others are just now beginning to flare.He walked towards me, boots crunching fresh snow. READ MORE HERE (FOR FREE!)